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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224499">With Scarves of Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricari/pseuds/apricari'>apricari</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Cannibalism, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Gen, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Long Live Abigail Hobbs, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Will is a Cannibal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:01:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricari/pseuds/apricari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt sent in by @DreamieNebula on Twitter, who requested our Murder Family spending the day hunting/fishing.</p><p>Unbeta’d.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hannibal Lecter &amp; Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham &amp; Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>With Scarves of Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wouldn’t it be easier to fish from the bank?” said Abigail, holding up the waders.</p><p>“Not like you think. We’ll need to stand near the current where the trout find their food. And for that, we need waders.”</p><p>“And the water’s cold.”</p><p>“And the water’s cold,” Will conceded. “But we’ll have fish for dinner.”</p><p>“We don’t need bait?”</p><p>“Not for this type of fishing. I’ll show you some different lures.“</p><p>Getting into the waders reminded Abigail of the footie pajamas she’d had when she was four. Will let her put a hand on his shoulder for balance until she could loop her arms through the straps.</p><p>Hannibal eyes crinkled at the corners when he saw them both in their gear. “Sure you don’t want to break out your plastic suit?” Will said, in a move Abigail would never have dared.</p><p>“I will leave the fishing to the professionals. Come now. The Salat awaits.”</p><p>The Pyrenees were so pretty they seemed fake, like a desktop background.At the river, Hannibal sat on the bank, picnic blanket and all, while she and Will stepped into the water.</p><p>“The method I’ll show you today is called downstream dry fly fishing,” Will told her. “Easy for beginners. It’s exciting.”</p><p>“Fishing is exciting?”</p><p>His lips twitched. “Relatively.”</p><p>He showed her where to stand, how to spot a fish, and it became more technical from there. In no time, there was a dramatic splash, and she was reeling a trout into the net Will had waiting. Without having to look, she knew Hannibal was watching them from the bank, smiling.</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>“I like it better than hunting.”</p><p>Will looked at her. “Yeah?”</p><p>“You can let a fish go after you catch it, and it’ll live.”</p><p>“It can be merciful,” Will agreed. “But don’t be merciful until you have the fish.”</p><p>At lunchtime, Hannibal had pâté and toasted bread waiting for them, with sparkling water and juicy red grapes. The liver was from a boy her age takenfrom a tourist park—he’d pinched her arm. She’d helped Hannibal make the pâté, he’d shown her how to fry sweetbreads, where the best cuts were, what dishes to make with what offal. It was still murder; Will had done something else with the rest. </p><p>Abigail went back to the river first, for the cold shock of the water. Will stayed on the shore for a bit longer, finishing his food. She could feel his attention on her as she cast her line and then it slid to Hannibal. They were talking, she saw from the corner of her eye. Hannibal leaned in a bit and said something that made Will grin.</p><p>Eventually, Will came back to the water. They didn’t speak much besides Will quietly instructing her. With the babbling water and the birds singing somewhere off in the tree, she let herself relax, minding only the water and her lure.</p><p>“Will?”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“What do you like best about living like this?”</p><p>Will seemed to come out of his own trance. He glanced at her. “Not being alone.” He shifted his footing. “What about you?”</p><p>“I don’t know yet.”</p><p>“Is everything alright, Abigail?”</p><p>She smiled at him. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”</p><p>“Talking is good too.”</p><p>“I know. I don’t know what to say.” She made the motion of tucking her hair behind her ear, and while a new ear was there now, her hair had been shaved short. Sometimes she still felt the phantom brush of it on the back of her neck. “I guess I’m not afraid of the things I used to be, anymore. I just don’t know how else I feel.”</p><p>“There’s no hurry to figure it out.” He sounded like such a dad sometimes, for a guy who had never been a dad.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said again, and then there was a tug on her line.</p><p>They caught a handful of rainbow trout, and a few that were too small—Will showed her—were let go. Hannibal greeted them again on their way back to the shore.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal gave her a glass of red wine with her dinner, in an effort to refine her palate. She could tell the difference between a Zinfandel and a Cabernet Sauvignon, but it didn’t really matter when they both made her dozy. She fell asleep in front of the fire and dreamed a shallow dream of being at Hannibal’s old Baltimore house, having breakfast for dinner.</p><p>She woke briefly to the quiet sound of Hannibal and Will talking on the balcony. The fire crackled. She could see their shadowy figures through the sheer curtain, barely. They were standing close enough that their silhouettes merged into one shape.</p><p>“If you’d told me when we first met one day I’d be having a glass of wine with you in the Pyrenees, I would have laughed,” said Will. Abigail agreed.</p><p>“I should like to show you Florence next,” said Hannibal. “You would both enjoy Italy.”</p><p>“Florence, huh?”</p><p>“I will take you anywhere you want to go, Will.”</p><p>It left Will quiet for what seemed like a long time. Her eyelids were heavy.</p><p>“I wanted to run away with you,” said Will. “I didn’t think about where we would go.”</p><p>“There is no hurry,” said Hannibal. Their voices were nearly hushed. “We have time.”</p><p>She drifted into sleep again. Later, she woke enough to know she was being carried. The last time she’d been carried to bed, she’d been twelve, and her father had lifted her so carefully. She’d objected; she was too big to be carried. “You’re never too big for your dad,” he’d said.</p><p>Now she knew Hannibal and Will were both there, keeping the nightmares away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you’d like to send a prompt, you can find me on twitter @apricarimy. DMs are open or you can reply to the pinned tweet.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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